


Like a worn-out recording of a favorite song

by lesbean7



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Morty needs to recover away from everyone else for a bit, Rick blames himself, Summer's running away the minute Morty gets back she swears to God she needs a vacation, and he kinda should so it's a realization kinda thing, get his head on straight, get some therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 07:23:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10566435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbean7/pseuds/lesbean7
Summary: Morty could've gone anywhere. Literally, anywhere. He could've gone to any planet of any galaxy in any universe--Hell, he could've gone to a universe made of ice cream. Or spiders. Or cheese. Or a universe where men and women and everyone in between fawn over short, scrawny sixteen-year-olds as if they're gods.Instead, he went to Ohio. A different Ohio, but still.Ohio.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No idea how far I'll take this, but I'm hoping there'll at least be another part from Morty's perspective. I make no promises because every time in the past I've been like "I'll do a multichaptered thing!" I fail so. We'll see~ 
> 
> This is completely self-indulgent and just me messing with my writing style a bit. It's been awhile since I've written just to write and kinda explore what I want my voice to be, so that's what this is for. Also I wanted to explore the idea that Rick and Morty are more similar than fandom tends to get across << Some of Morty's ticks and personality traits are similar to Rick's, so I would argue a Rick can have some Morty-ish traits in certain situations. Idk, I thought it'd be fun. 
> 
> Beth and Jerry'll show up later, Morty'll show up later---I'm thinking this'll, ideally, be 3 parts. This part, next part w/Morty, last part w/Saving Private Morty style-stuff lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy~

Rick knows that Morty has a tipping point. It’d be unreal if he didn’t—He wouldn’t be able to call himself the smartest man in the universe if he thought that Morty would always be docile and relatively obedient. Random outbursts of anger notwithstanding, Morty was more or less the perfect helper. Eager to please, kept satisfied with the occasional buddy-buddy moment, helpful when he wasn’t so damn anxious—-But Rick had worn out more than enough “assistants” or “friends” over the years to know there's always a line. A line he tramples on and jumps over many a-time, but the line exists and generally his trampling ends in tears or screams. 

Maybe it’s because he was able to manipulate those moments of fury and rage for so long that he dismissed them. He can usually time Morty’s bugging-out moments just so. For maximum usefulness in whatever situation they got themselves into. 

Well, whatever situation Rick got them into. 

It’s not that hard. He has more tells than the world’s shittiest poker player. He wonders, pretty often, what Morty would be like without Jerry’s genes ruining him. Outside of the shit he got from his sperm-donor (a weak spine, almost painful docility, and so, so much stupidity and naivety it physically /pains/ Rick somedays—), Morty’s a good kid. If he was just a bit smarter—Hell, if he was even just average intelligence, Rick wouldn’t be so harsh with him. Or at least, Morty would be smart enough to know that Rick’s fucking joking and would stop getting his boxers all twisted up. 

Or briefs. Or panties. A man doesn’t judge another man’s underwear choice. 

The point is, even Summer, who’s pretty averagely intelligent, almost always knows when Rick’s being a dick and when he’s just messing with her. If Morty could acquire that skill ASAP, that’d reduce Rick’s migraines by at least a third. Most of his migraines are alcohol-induced, but the third that’s caused by Morty’s whining and pissiness and general upset is much more killer and can’t be solved by swig or two. 

Rick’s stuck with this Morty, though. Not that it’s really stuck, per se. He could drop the peanut at any time and get a new one, but. Who wants to wear in a new Morty? This one’s all trained up, has enough experience now to be useful and not ask too many stupid questions, is still new enough to appease with simple, otherworldly treats. Plus he doesn’t have a gimmick like Fish Morty or Hipster Morty or Cowboy Morty. He’s just a Morty, and that’s all that Rick needs. Plus the new ones—They’re just as dumb, so it’s not like he’d get any real benefits with another one. 

At least his Morty has the excuse of actually shitty parents for stunting his intellectual growth. Other Ricks had been with their Mortys for years and they were still as dumb as the day the Ricks stumbled into their lives, and even more Ricks had Mortys that grew up in semi-functional families and couldn’t get them to be any smarter than the average Mort. And his Morty’s at least emotionally stable enough that he doesn’t take some weird-ass style on to cover up the fact he’s one wrong mission from grabbing his Rick’s gun and——

All in all, Rick has it alright with his Morty. He’s a good kid, still devoted to him, and if he goes off the rails every once in awhile—-Well, that’s what Rick’s there for. He can’t stop it because no one can stop this kinda trauma, in his experience, not even the “best therapists the galaxy can offer”. Quacks, the lot of them. So, he can’t fix it, can’t stop Morty’s PTSD-induced freak-outs, but he can at least redirect them to be something useful. He’s lucky that his Morty has violent reactions to extreme stress instead of weepy ones—Rick doesn’t get them into nearly enough situations where a vulnerable, crying boy can help. The only one he can think of is that time where the planet was run by children and they were distracted by making fun of Morty for crying. 

A rage-filled, surprisingly powerful, no-holds-barred teenager though? That comes in handy. Especially to clear a path to the ship. 

Rick’s a pretty good grandpa, he’d argue when he isn’t in one of his self-loathing moods. He’s fucked Morty-Mort up a bit, but he at least gave him some excitement. It’s a privilege to know what’s out there in the infinite universes, and it’s a goddamn GIFT that Rick’s given Morty, letting him tag along, teaching him about life outside of the minuscule perspective Earth has. It’s not his fault it comes with a price. He keeps an eye on the little shit and he hasn’t died yet so really, Morty should be much more grateful than he is. 

The stupid peanut. 

Rick rolls over in the camp bed he keeps in the garage to grab another bottle, ignores the taste of bile rolling over his tongue, and stops thinking about much of anything. 

 

 

It’s about four days later, a random day where he’s been uncharacteristically lethargic, when he feels a hand suddenly dig around in his pocket. He’s too slow to stop it, limbs dragging and him nearly overbalancing. He snarls something out as the brat steadies him and helps him sit down, and he takes too long to turn around after. He can’t move more than a few centimeters at a time, and he hears a familiar whirling noise way, way too many times. 

When he fights his body and topples over so his face is in the correct direction, he sees a truly obscene number of portals generated. Of course his gun had just been charged. Of course. 

And of course he’s going to ring Morty’s stupid fucking neck because that stupid little shit took his goddamn portal gun when he’s too damn stupid to use a toaster let alone something /Rick/ made that stupid stupid—

No, actually. The gun’s not too far from where Rick is, really. Lying on the ground, on its side, with just enough for one jump left. Going from the light he can see, it looks like one jump’s still in it, but. It might be less. It might not even be enough for that. Rick would kill to be able to move any of his limbs. 

“Summer,” he grits out. He takes a breath, and somehow manages to sort of yell her name. 

She comes running, like a good grandchild. His new favorite, he thinks meanly, that doesn’t drug him or steal his crap or try to trick him, the conniving little BRAT—

“Grandpa Rick? What’s wrong?” 

“Blue vial,” he says, thrusting an arm in the direction of his desk. “Blue, blue——“ 

Again, like a GOOD grandchild, she grabs it and tilts his head back to he doesn’t choke when she dumps it down his throat. He hisses as it goes straight through him, burning through whatever crap Morty dosed him with, and it’s barely seconds later when he darts up and rushes to his gun, careful not to fall into any of the portals that are slowly disintegrating the longer no one uses them. 

“Grandpa Rick, what’s happening? Where’s Morty?” 

“Gone,” he says shortly. “Ran like a—A something, I dunno, shut up, I need to look and see where these go so I can figure out where the fuck your dipshit of a brother went.” 

Summer stares at him as he fumbles with the gun and mutters to himself, and she says, “Where do you think he went? Why would he—He must’ve had a reason, right? Like, where did you guys go recently where something was unfinished?” 

“O-of course! Clearly it’s /my/ fault your brother’s a fucking moron and he’s—Some sort of trauma I left him with that made him run off, some sort of—Blame me, that’s what everyone in this family does!” 

She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “Yeah, that’s not a guilty conscience talking or anything. I just meant, he’s got a bit of a. Hero-thing. Attempted hero thing. Was there some injustice recently where you made him leave before it was sorted out?” 

“No!” He snaps. “Everything’s been fucking—fucking normal, Summer, fucking dandy, just fucking peachy, so shut up and let me try to figure out where he went so we can ask him ourselves why he’s being—why he thought—“ 

“Chill out,” she snaps back. “Morty’s been on enough ‘adventures’ with you, he’s not exactly new to this shit. I’m sure he’s fine.” 

“Are you trying to say—I’m not worried about that stupid fucking piece of shit! W-w-w-what, you think, you think that I’m worried? I’m pissed! I’m gonna wring his skinny ass neck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna throw a him off a cliff, I’m gonna—“ He cuts himself off and slams the portal gun onto his desk, shoving his hands into his hair. “Your brother’s too stupid to be off planet alone, he’s going to get himself—He’s gonna cause a goddamn incident, he’s gonna—gonna, I don’t know, but whatever he does I’m gonna be the one who has to fix it and drag him back. Me! Like I want that crap, l-like I want to deal with his shit!” 

She reaches over him and grabs the portal gun, searching through the history for a minute. She gives Rick a minute and pointedly ignores how much he’s shaking. 

“Tell me about the dimensions that he opened portals to. I recognize some of them—This is the one where everything’s spiders, and that one’s to Gazorpazorp I’m pretty sure. You know Morty, grandpa, you know which dimensions he’d want to go to. So start talking to me about the options.” 

Rick tugs at his hair and doesn’t answer. 

“Well?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know,” she says, disbelievingly. “Har har, grandpa Rick. C’mon, start thinking. Put that brain of yours to work. Where would my idiot brother go?” 

“He’d go anywhere!” Rick shouts, waving a hand at the lingering portals. “I’m not—I’m smart, I know a lot, I know your stupid brother, and the problem with him is that he’s too fucking stupid! He’d do this on a whim, he wouldn’t think it through, he’d just open portals at random, make sure he could breathe, then jump in! Because he’s s-stupid, he’s a stupid, idiot, moronic, dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid—“ 

“Whoa, um. Grandpa Rick. Grandpa Rick!” 

She grabs both of his hands in an alarmingly strong grip, and Rick sees strands of hair fall to the floor as she holds them in place. There’s specks of blood on his fingertips but he can’t deal with that through the, the rage. The rage. That’s it. He’s so disgustingly mad that his stomach’s turning and he can’t think. 

“Hey, we’ll find him. It’s okay. It’s okay, grandpa. We’ll check all of the portals he made if we have to. It’s okay.” 

Summer, as good of a kid as her mom had been, tugs him into an embrace. His head tucked under her chin as she rubs his back, his hands trapped between their bodies. He makes a weird, hoarse noise and wishes that everything would start making sense again. Because why would his Morty leave? What did he do, what did Rick do, what happened, what happened what did he /do/ god dammit what— 

Summer shushes him, but he knows she thinks that Morty’s gone for some noble reason—Maybe, but unlikely, there’s almost no chance that he’s gone for that. She shouldn’t be comforting him when it’s Rick’s fault Morty’s gone.

Rick knows him, he’s gone because Rick fucked up, that’s it even if he doesn’t know why exactly but it’s his fault and he knows it’s his fault and Morty might die because he’s not smart enough to keep himself alive he’s not he’s so dumb, he’s his stupid little peanut and he doesn’t /want/ a new Morty he doesn’t want his Morty to hate him or be gone or or or 

He keens and Summer holds him a little tighter.


End file.
